Shadow in the Dark
by Tyrano
Summary: "I'm sorry, you know. But I have a destiny in this world. I can't allow anything to get in my way." Dark!Harry
1. Prologue

**AN: This is a slightly updated version of the prologue. As you read this I am working diligently on the remainder of the story. And I hope to begin posting around the new year. Enjoy.**

 **PROLOGUE**

If there was one thing Tom Riddle knew, it was his superiority. Despite being of no wealth or status, he had intelligence. Intelligence far greater than possessed by those around him. His fellow orphans at Wool's couldn't tell their head from their ass, the adults were even worse, and then came the magicals.

When Tom discovered he was a wizard, he was only slightly surprised, he had always been able to do strange things, but he had never imagined that there would be a whole secret society of beings possessing magic. He quickly adapted, and he found that wizards and witches were just as slow as muggles (Tom found the term muggle quite acceptable for those without magic; it showed just how little they were worth). While it was unpleasant being considered a mudblood (another term he found acceptable), he knew that he was not, and it was only a matter of time before he proved it. Throughout his first five years at Hogwarts, he took as much money as he could from pickpocketing, both muggles and magicals.

By the end of his fifth year, he had acquired quite the sum of money, and was able to get an inheritance test at Gringotts. He greatly enjoyed his discovery of his Slytherin ancestry, he always suspected (as only those descended from Slytherin could speak Parseltongue), but having it confirmed made the victory only sweeter. At that time he took his place as Lord of the House of Slytherin, and found that the Slytherin vault contained quite the sum of money, making him one of the richest magicals in the Wizarding World.

Through that inheritance test, Tom discovered the name of his living family members, his father, paternal grandparents, and his maternal uncle all lived. He quickly changed the status of the first three, and framed the fourth. He also fashioned a more… appropriate name for himself, Lord Voldemort. Putting the words I am in front of the new name, turned it into an anagram of his given name. You could say that the two names represented who he was, and who he is.

With his newly acquired wealth, status, and name, he returned to Hogwarts, for his sixth year. A year in which he began recruiting, slowly, but surely, the Death Eaters rose, ready to take back their world from the mudbloods who wished its traditions abolished.

-BREAK-

With his Hogwarts years over, his position at Borgin and Burkes terminated, and his application to teach at his Alma Mater rejected, Voldemort decided to travel. He and his most loyal follower, Abraxas Malfoy, from 1950, to 1953 he and Abraxas traveled the world, visiting ancient Magical civilizations and learning much. However early in the year 1953, Abraxas learned of his father's passing, and returned to England to take the position of Lord Malfoy, he married, and quickly had a child, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy. Voldemort continued his travels until 1965, having been joined by another follower of his, Antonin Dolohov.

-BREAK-

On Halloween, 1965, Voldemort returned to England, and using symbols he had given his followers, he called them to his deceased father's mansion. Over a hundred pure and half-blooded wizards met him, donned in black robes, and white masks. Included in those hundred people, were his most loyal, Abraxas Malfoy, Antonin Dolohov, James Avery, Radolph Lestrange, Theodore Nott, Alexander Rosier, and Harrison Mulciber.

Voldemort stood tall, his handsome features hidden behind a large hood on his black robes, his followers knelt before him as he spoke:

"Welcome my friends! Welcome Death Eaters! On this glorious Samhain, we gather to take the first step on a long path that rests before us! Today, we gather to take back our world from the filth that wishes to destroy our traditions, pollute our society, and then make us out as the evil ones. Today, we shall attack Diagon Alley! We will show them that not everyone is so content to sit back, and watch our culture be destroyed by those worthless mudbloods. Join me, as I take the first step towards freedom of the Wizarding World!"

The Death Eaters stood as one, and adopted relaxed stances, arms held tightly behind their straightened backs. Voldemort smirked inwardly, wizards were so easy to control. Of course, he did intend to rid the country of as many mudbloods as possible, but he would show mercy to those willing to accept wizarding tradition. This idea of purity was a mean to an end, what he truly wanted was power, and by using the screen of blood purity, he could have hundreds of wizards and witches rally to his cause. Kill some mudbloods, flex some magical muscle, and eventually the wizarding world would be under his command.

"There are one-hundred and five of you, Malfoy, Dolohov, Avery, Lestrange, Nott, Rosier, and Mulciber shall come with me, leaving ninety-eight. The rest of you shall split into fourteen seven man squads. You all know your targets, and you all know when to attack. Let us leave."

With that, one-hundred and six wizards disapparated intent on the destruction of Diagon Alley.

-BREAK-

Diagon Alley was a bright and lively street, shops lined both sides of the half mile stretch. From the very beginning, marked by The Leaky Cauldron, to the very end marked by Gringotts and the break into the financial, residential, and Knockturn alleys. While not nearly as populated as during the weeks leading up to the first days of classes at Hogwarts, the Alley still held hundreds of products wizards and witches needed on a daily basis and as such one could always find a few hundred or even a thousand witches and wizards roaming the Alley.

As the people of the Wizarding World wandered around Diagon Alley, they worried about nothing, feeling safe with the patrolling aurors. Roughly fifty of the magical police roamed the street. The alley was alive with the hustle and bustle of the wizarding world, children, who weren't quite old enough for Hogwarts, ran around quidditch stores, prank and sweets shops, and Fortescue's, their parents made their way in and out of robes shops, apothecaries, and butchers stores. There was little noise besides the pleasant laughter of children and the moderately volumed meetings of old friends, shoppers, and the like. That is, until the sharp cracks of one-hundred wizards apparating directly into the alley echoed around like a sonic boom. Within moments, light exploded across the alley, as the black robed, white masked figures began shouting the darkest of curses, causing mass hysteria.

The aurors on guard however, many still being in service from the time of Grindelwald, responded quickly, throwing high powered shields between the Death Eaters and the civilians. They cast their own curses, and backed the robed wizards into a corner, putting them on the defensive.

Within moments, many of the dark forces were cut down, and the cold voice of Voldemort shouted out " _MORSMORDRE!_ RETREAT! COME MY DEATH EATERS, YOUR LORD VOLDEMORT COMMANDS YOU TO RETREAT!"

At once, the black robed wizards disapparated, and in an instant, the alley was quiet, except for the heavy breathing of the aurors, as they began to help the civilians, and arrest surviving Death Eaters.

In all, nine magicals were killed, including one goblin and one house elf, and seven were injured. Forty-two of the so called "Death Eaters" were dead, and an additional eleven were too wounded to have apparated away.

Magical Britain laughed at the wannabe dark legion. In a world where most living people remembered the time of Grindelwald, an attack in which less than ten were killed, and nearly half the attacking force died with them, allowed no one to fear the new dark order. The secret nation looked at Albus Dumbledore (Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot, British Delegate to the International Confederation of Wizards, and Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry) to end this group of Dark Wizards. After all, he had defeated Grindelwald, surely he could destroy a weaker dark lord.

-BREAK-

Voldemort sat quietly on his throne, inwardly raging at his failed attack. He awaited Abraxas, who would give him report to him the response of the ministry. Roughly six hours after the attack, and five after Abraxas and the other members of Voldemort's inner circle had been called to the Wizengamot, the man returned, and knelt before him.

"Abraxas, my friend, how many did we lose in the attack?"

Abraxas shuffled slightly, not looking forward to informing his master of the numbers. While the man was most definitely sane, and would never injure his followers for no reason, he was difficult to deal with when angered.

"My lord, forty-two men are dead, and an additional eleven were captured. All of the captured are in cells in Azkaban, awaiting the Kiss."

Voldemort took a deep breath, and asked his next question.

"How many did we kill?"

"Aurors, or civilians my lord?"

"Both."

"Seven civilians were killed, another seven wounded. In addition one goblin and one house elf were killed in the crossfire. No aurors were killed."

Voldemort sighed and dropped his head to his hands.

"Abraxas, call the other six in."

"Of course my lord."

Soon, the full inner circle of Death Eaters stood before Voldemort, and he spoke to them as a group.

"My friends, we have been severely weakened. Nearly half our forces have been decimated. Mulciber, Lestrange, and Dolohov, begin preparations for the ritual, find me one-hundred virgins, who will turn seventeen on Samhain night, four years from now. Malfoy, Nott, Avery, and Rosier, get others to join. I want everyone, get Black, Crabbe, Goyle, Gibbon, Rowle, Macnair, Yaxley, Wilkes, Travers, Sewlyn, Jugson, Rookwood, Carrow, get all of them. For too long they have said maybe, it is time for them to join or die. Get others too. Smaller families, half-bloods will work. We need more men. We will attack again in five years, exactly one year after the ritual is performed. Go, now."

-BREAK-

Albus Dumbledore was, for all intents and purposes, your typical wizard. The only thing that truly seperated him from others, were his above average intelligence and magical stores. While he did have great power and status in the wizarding world, there were hundreds of old wizarding families, and many had as much, or even more power than he. His title of Headmaster, did not bring any actual political power; sure many trusted him more, as he was responsible for the safety and education of nearly a thousand young witches and wizards, but it did not give him a vote on the Wizengamot. His title of British Delegate to the ICW gave him little standing, as that title came with his title of Supreme Mugwump, which only gave him one additional vote. The title of Supreme Mugwump (besides giving him one extra vote) did little, he was more or less a judge in a jury court, all he did was keep order. That one vote did give him four total, but considering that most Wizengamot lords had 5, he was still not all too powerful.

His political power came from his actions; he had killed (at least the wizarding world thought he did) his old friend, and lover, Gellert Grindelwald. For saving them from the Dark Lord, the wizarding world began to look at him as the Lord of The Light. This was the title that gave him standing; the Wizarding World began to look to him for help with their problems, and Albus relished it.

Albus, like any Slytherin (very few knew of his true house; most believed him to have been a Gryffindor), wanted power. However, he had never been a very violent person. He would of course kill when need be, and he was no stranger to dueling, but he far preferred diplomacy to might. And when people knew you could kill them with little to no trouble, diplomacy worked even better. His destroying of the dark lord had launched him into the spotlight as more than just an old teacher. It made him someone to be looked up to, to be respected. When he ran for the title of Supreme Mugwump, a year after he destroyed Grindelwald, he won with the vote of ninety-nine percent of the Wizengamot; and he knew that if he ever desired to leave his post at Hogwarts, he could easily be elected Minister.

But he was content with the power he had. People looked up to him, they respected his opinion, and he got to spend nine months of the year helping children grow into their future roles in making Wizarding society run. What more could an old teacher ask for?

The only thing that worried him was this new Dark Lord. If you took a look at the history of wizards, there would always be a dark lord or two running around, most were easy to put down: they and their few followers would randomly attack someone or something and would be killed by aurors. Dark Lords like Grindelwald differed; while they would begin like any other dark lord, they would eventually attack under a banner of some political issue, typically blood purity, and would execute better planned attacks, with more followers. This, Voldemort, had revealed himself to the world by attacking Diagon Alley in the middle of the day, with no less than fifty aurors in the alley. It was a ballsy move, and one that had failed spectacularly. Nearly fifty pureblood lords of moderate standing were now dead, as were nine innocent people.

The public looked to Albus to remove the threat, but he had no idea how to. He knew nothing else of the new Dark Lord. It could be years before this new lord was killed, and that could be too long, depending on how Voldemort proceeded.

-BREAK-

Looking at what lie before him, Voldemort smiled. It was not a sneer, nor a smirk (as one would expect from a Dark Lord), but a genuine smile. In addition to it being a real smile, it was an attractive smile, for the dark lord was an attractive man. One would think, that him being nearly forty, and being deep in the usage of the dark arts, his appearance would be affected. But no, his horcrux, and the numerous other dark rituals he had conducted on himself assured that he would forever look no older than mid thirties.

It had been four long, productive years since the failure of his first attack. Much had happened: his forces had grew to three times its original size, he had gone through several minor power increasing rituals, and the wizarding world was slowly returning to where it was before Grindelwald. Less and less aurors patrolled major wizarding places, people relaxed fully as they walked around. They had lived four years without fear of an attack, but that would soon change.

The reason Voldemort smiled was the large pit before him. More specifically what knelt and stood around it. One-hundred virgins, all of who would turn eleven, fourteen, or seventeen in little more than an hour. Those three ages were the three where wizards and witches would experience the largest magical growth. It had taken four years to gather all of them. While the magical population of the world wasn't tiny, it was hard to find one-hundred people who would all turn one of three ages on Halloween, but it had been done. And at midnight on Halloween, the one-hundred Death Eaters that stood behind these virgins, would slit their throats, filling up the pit with blood, Voldemort at that time would be lying on the stone block that lay in the center of the pit, and those Death Eaters would continue with an ancient spell, of Egyptian origin, allowing him to drain the power of all the dead.

His magical stores would increase drastically, and he and his followers would then prepare for their next raid, which would take place exactly one year later. They would show the wizarding world they were not to be laughed at. The next step in his rise to power was almost upon him, and nothing would stand in the way.

His thoughts were interrupted by a low voice, Abraxas stood in full Death Eater regalia, the white mask, the dark grey uniform, and the long black robe.

"My lord," the man spoke, "It is nearly time."

"Indeed it is, my slippery friend, are your fellows ready?"

"Yes my lord, the blades are sharp, the sacrifices in position, and the Death Eaters lusting for blood."

"Good, good. I shall take my place; here is your watch. Remember, you all must cut their throats and begin the ritual at as close as midnight you possibly can. The entire ritual should take no more than than five minutes. It is imperative that you lay the bodies flat on the ground immediately after you begin. When the blood stops flowing, push the bodies in."

Abraxas' cold voice responded quickly, "Yes my lord,it shall be done as you have said."

Voldemort turned to speak to his followers at large.

"My friends! This is a good day! For on this late hour of October thirtieth, nineteen sixty-nine, we gather to begin the rise of the wizarding world's next great power! Semper Fidelis, Semper Pura!"

His Death Eaters cheered, and called back to him, "Semper Fidelis, Semper Pura!"

He smiled, and disrobed himself, taking long, powerful strides towards the pit; with the grace of a dueler he dropped down from the ledge, and took his place lying on the stone table.

He heard the church bells ring in the distance, the quiet squelches of one hundred people having their throats slit, and the gushing of blood. He heard one hundred Death Eaters begin chanting, he heard the choked gasps as his sacrifices slowly bled to death. He heard the wind steadily increase, he heard bodies fall haphazardly into the blood, blood that was slowly covering him. He heard his followers finish the ritual, and he heard a loud boom. Then, he felt himself slowly lose consciousness, and heard no more, as great pain crept up upon him.

-BREAK-

"Tempus."

Luminous figures appeared in the air, and read,

8:11 AM

Wednesday, December 31st, 1969

Tom's left eyebrow arched slightly. He had been unconscious for two months? That certainly backed his plans up slightly (and by slight backup, he meant his plans were majorly fucked, and he would have to reevaluate most everything). On the bright side, however, he had a fresh start.

He smiled as he rose from his bed, he had work to do.

-BREAK-

Tom looked at his gathered followers; it was the last day of April, no more than six months after the ritual had been performed, and here he was, beginning his return to the wizarding world, and continuing his long road to power.

"My friends, today is a day most , we continue the road before us, the road to power! The road to safety from the muggle scum that plagues our world! The road to victory over the weak minded fools in our government! The road to eternal glory for the Death Eaters! Power! Safety! Victory! Glory! Semper Fidelis, Semper Pura!"

His Death Eaters let out a mighty roar! Their wands raised, they repeated his words back to him.

"Power! Safety! Victory! Glory! Semper Fidelis, Semper Pura!"

-BREAK-

 _ **ATTACK ON MUGGLE TOWN! FOUR HUNDRED MUGGLES, TEN AURORS DEAD!**_

 **By: Rita Skeeter**

 _After five years, the group known as the "Death Eaters" have struck again. In an attack on the muggle village of Sansbury last night, 421 muggles were killed. The village of Sansbury had a total population of 443, leaving a casualty rate of 95%. Of the 22 survivors, the story remains the same; roughly 120 people, dressed in dark cloaks (we now know them to be battle robes) with red or silver markings and wearing white masks, apparated into positions surrounding the village, and immediately began casting spells. Roughly half an hour after the attack began, a contingent of 35 aurors arrived to quell the threat; the force was quickly overwhelmed, 10 were killed, 13 injured, and the remaining 12 captured._

 _Many will remember that the last time we heard of the Death Eaters, they killed or injured 16 people, all civilians. This makes the 431 people killed (as well as the 30 injured and 12 captured), a dramatic and terrifying increase in casualties. What has caused this? And what can stop it?_

-BREAK-

 _ **THIRD MUGGLE VILLAGE ATTACK, LEAVES ONE HUNDRED DEAD**_

 _ **EIGHTY DEAD AFTER ATTACK ON RAVEN'S KEEP**_

 _ **ATTACK ON MINISTRY LEAVES DMLE HEAD AND THIRTY AURORS DEAD**_

MINISTRY UNVEILS STATUE TO HONOR YOU-KNOW-WHO'S VICTIMS

 _ **LORD CHARLUS POTTER AND LADY DOREA POTTER nee BLACK FOUND DEAD**_

-BREAK-

 _ **LORD JAMES POTTER ANNOUNCES BIRTH OF HEIR**_

 **By: Rita Skeeter**

 _In these dark times, even the smallest amount of light is refreshing, which is why I'm pleased to share the fact that early yesterday (July 31, 1979), Lady Lily Potter, wife to Lord James Potter of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter, has given birth to the young couples Heir, Hadrian Sirius Potter. The young boy's name coming from the recently named Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, Sirius Black. Just one year ago, the previous Lord and Lady potter, Charlus Fleamont and Dorea Euphemia, were murdered in an attack on the Potter Castle.. The current Lord and Lady Potter, just 18 years old, have lived in an unknown location for the past year, citing reasons of personal safety for their undisclosed location._

-BREAK-

 _ **LORD POTTER ANNOUNCES BIRTH OF SECOND SON**_

 **By: Rita Skeeter**

 _On this, the first birthday of Hadrian Sirius Potter, Lord James Potter has announced the birth of his second son, James Charlus Potter II. In an event only explainable by magic, the second heir has been born on the exact same day, just one year later, as the 19 year old couples first heir. Lord Potter has exclaimed his overwhelming joy over the day's events. In other news, Frank Longbottom heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Longbottom, son to Lady Augusta Longbottom, has announced the birth of his own son, Neville Frank Longbottom. In these dark times, such instances as these bring joy to this reporter's heart._

-BREAK-

 _ **FINAL POTTER CHILD BORN, SAME BIRTHDAY AS OLDER BROTHERS**_

 **By: Rita Skeeter**

 _August 2, 1981, on this day, Lord and Lady Potter have announced the birth of their third, and final, child, Cassiopeia Lily Potter. Once again, the child has been born on the 31st of July._

-BREAK-

Tom looked down at Snape and frowned. This would not do, no, not at all. A mere child? Prophesied to defeat him? The Greatest Dark Lord since Grindelwald? No, this could not happen. He would make sure it didn't. He would find a way to remove the Potter child from the picture. Or, maybe, change his position in the picture?

Yes, Tom liked that idea. He liked it very much. He looked at Snape again, a brilliant Potioneer the boy may be, but his loyalty was thin. He would need someone else, and he new exactly who. Yes, Tom thought, this could work. It could work quite well.


	2. I

**AN: Yo! It's an update. I was gonna wait to post more until I had finished the story, but I realized that would probably never end up happening, so now I have more motivation. Please enjoy. Peace TF out.**

I

-JAMES-

James Charlus Potter was quite truthfully, your average teenaged pureblood boy. He was tall and rather muscled (from years of playing quidditch no doubt), he had bright hazel eyes, and black hair that always seemed to stick out at one odd angle or another. On most, his hair would be rather awkward-looking, but he found a way to make its appearance quite charming. He had a handsome face with neither a mustache nor a beard to be found. Upon his nose rested what seemed to be his only flaw, an almost wire thin pair of glasses, for despite the beauty of his hazel eyes, they were nearly blind.

However, he was still the epitome of pureblood handsomeness. And he had a fair sense of dress as well, undoubtedly drilled into him by his mother, the Lady Dorea Potter, and perhaps even his father, the Lord Charlus Fleamont Potter. James quite clearly achieved his good looks from his parents.

Charlus Potter was a man of average height and stocky build. He had thick arms, a square jaw, and a devilish smirk that was ever present on his face (which James most definitely inherited). His hair was the same black as his sons, but much shorter, and very muggle soldier like, his square jaw (which drew many women to him in his teenaged years) became hidden by a great big, bushy, black, beard, which over time, had begun to grey. His eyes were a dark blue color, and his face was rather pale, quite offsetting to his dark hair.

Dorea Potter was where James got his height; she stood no more than 8 centimeters shorter than her husband, but was on the rather petite side; she had long dark hair, and the same hazel eyes as her son. Her face was pretty, and had aged very well, with hardly a wrinkle in sight. Her skin was the same pale color of her husband and son. She had always enjoyed being naturally beautiful, and avoided makeup as such. Her heritage as a daughter of the Black family was clear to see.

James, as mentioned above, was a longtime quidditch player. His skill as a chaser earned him a starting position in his second year, and the honor of being Gryffindor's team captain in his fourth year. He helped Gryffindor win the Quidditch and House cup for six straight years. And he even performed well in school, despite never trying. James consistently earned EEs in all his classes, and rarely didn't get Os in Transfiguration; school seemingly came natural to him, despite his rather blase attitude about it.

The thing James excelled in the most however, was girls. They flocked to him, he got good grades, he was rich, he was handsome, what wasn't there to like? Of course, despite the constant attention from numerous girls spanning all years of Hogwarts, there was only one who ever truly drew his eye.

Lily Evans was a rather petite girl, with very little height, and a lot of temper. She had bright red hair, emerald green eyes, and pale skin. She was intelligent, she was funny, and she hated James Potter with a passion.

Her reasons were many: one, he constantly bullied her friend Sev; two, he was cocky and a womanizer; three, he constantly chased after her, always asking her out, trying to keep her away from Sev, and just annoying her in general; and fourth, worst of all, his grades. They were far too good for someone who spent all his time flirting and playing quidditch. He never studied, and yet he achieved consistent EEs and Os, whereas Lily had to constantly study and review to achieve her own EEs and Os. It was infuriating; _he_ was infuriating.

For five and a half years, she dealt with his constant persuals. Until one day during their sixth year.

-LILY-

The potions room was a rather dark and depressing room in the dungeons, not far from where Lily knew the Slytherin common room was, and where she knew Severus would be right now. She missed him, at least a little bit, but she knew that ending her friendship with him was for the best, his obsession with the dark arts, and his now known following of the blood supremacists was far too much for her. She supposed that his calling her a mudblood wasn't entirely his fault, as he had just been humiliated by Potter, Black, Remus and Peter again, but still, it hurt, and he had yet to offer an apology several months later.

And there they were, the "Marauders": James Potter; Sirius Black; Remus Lupin; and Peter Pettigrew. Lily never understood how Remus had come to be friends with the other three—he was completely different from Potter and Black. He was a hard worker, he enjoyed quieter things, and he had always been the kindest to Severus (although, he still followed Potter and Black's lead when they bullied him). Peter she could understand, he had serious confidence issues, and to be looked at kindly by two of the most popular and wealthy students in Hogwarts, well, he'd do anything they asked.

The past several weeks had been weird. Potter had stopped flirting with her, in fact, he had stopped almost all interaction with her, besides the occasional "Good morning" or "Afternoon, Evans". It was strange, she still caught him staring at her in class or the common room occasionally, but he rarely spoke to her. And this day was no different. When she passed by his and Black's table upon arriving to class, he politely said hello, and returned to his conversation with Black. It was strange and she had no idea what brought on the sudden change. But no matter, she had work to do; she turned to her potions partner, Alice Smith, and they begun to work.

It wasn't until class was about halfway through, when a younger looking student entered the room, and handed a note to Professor Slughorn, before leaving. Slughorn looked at the note, and expressed nothing. He looked at the class, and by now everyone was looking at him.

"Mr. Pot…" He stopped there and righted himself, "James M'boy, if you would follow me please."

Potter looked confused, but stood and followed Slughorn into his office, telling Black that the potion just needed to simmer for half an hour, and it would be ready to be bottled.

No one looked back at their potion. They looked through the small glass window on Slughorn's office door, through which they could see Potter's back, as he sat in the chair before the great big desk that filled half the room. For about a minute, they heard nothing but muffled speaking, before a voice that very clearly belonged to Potter shouted:

"NO! YOU'RE LYING!"

At this point, Potter stood, ripped open the door, and ran out the still open Potions room entrance. Slughorn sighed loudly, before standing, walking back to his desk in the classroom itself, and saying to the furiously whispering students, "Alright! Alright! That's enough of that! I'll have no rumour mongering in my classroom; everybody get back to your potions. Mr. Lupin, please assist Mr. Black if he needs any help."

The rest of potions passed uneventfully.

-BREAK-

By dinner time, still no one had seen Potter, not even Black, Remus, or Peter. Sitting next to Alice, she waited for the nightly mail to arrive. And as it did, the Great Hall filled with silence. For on the Daily Prophet, was something Lily had not expected.

 _ **LORD CHARLUS POTTER AND LADY DOREA POTTER nee BLACK FOUND DEAD**_

 **By: Rita Skeeter**

 _It is with a heavy heart that I must inform you dear readers, that early this morning, the Lord Charlus Potter and Lady Dorea Potter, of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter, were found dead in a heavily damaged Mt. Plastes, the ancestral castle of the Potter Family. Flying above the castle was a dark mark, confirming that the Potter's were murdered by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or his Death Eaters._

 _The Potter's leave behind one son, James Charlus Potter, now the Lord of House Potter._

Lily was horrified, as much as she disliked Pot— James, she would never wish something like this on him. No matter how much he bullied Severus, no matter how cocky and arrogant he was, he didn't deserve to have his parents killed. She heard a sob and watched as Remus and Peter helped a sobbing Sirius Black walk out of the Great Hall. That's right, he had lived with the Potters for years (Dorea being his great aunt). She stood and walked out of the Great Hall shortly behind them, as Dumbledore stood to address the students.

She had to think, where would she go if she were James Potter, after learning his parents were dead. Of course! The one place he loved the most! The Quidditch Pitch!

She walked quickly to the Quidditch Pitch and discovered she was right. Sitting at the top of one of the towers, looking towards the Black Lake, was James Potter. As he was more than 100 feet in the air and she was to his right, he had not seen her. Within minutes, she had climbed the many flights of stairs needed to reach the top platform, and sat herself down next to him. He either didn't see her, or was just ignoring her presence. She waited ten minutes before she spoke.

"It was in the Daily Prophet. I'm so sorry."

He didn't look at her when he responded.

"It was going to happen eventually. They refused to join him; they knew the risks."

Lily was shocked by the sheer lack of emotion in his voice, but she knew well the stages of grief, and it seemed he jumped from 1 to 4.

"Still, you're allowed to be sad, James. It's normal to be sad when something like this happens."

She saw him smile slightly, but it was gone almost immediately.

"That's the first time you've ever called me James. It's only ever been Potter, since the beginning of first year."

"It's hard to comfort someone when calling them by their last name."

"I suppose so. If you don't mind, I would enjoy it if you didn't return to using my last name."

Lily looked at him. He still hadn't stopped staring at the Black Lake, where the Giant Squid could be seen playing. The sun was slowly setting over the Scottish Highlands. The sky was a brilliant mix of orange, blue, purple, and black.

"It's a beautiful night." And it truly was.

"It is. I wish my parents could see it."

Lily was surprised; he had gone back to stage 3.

"It won't be the same for me and Sirius anymore. It never will be."

Lily looked at him again, and saw a single tear run down his aristocratic face. She had never realised how handsome he truly was. But now was not the time for that. She gently reached her arm over his shoulders, and pulled him against her side. The fact that he was 30 centimeters taller than her, and twice her weight, made it slightly awkward, but she ignored it, and since he didn't move away, she assumed he was doing the same thing.

Lily realised that it would never be the same for James and her either. Not after tonight. It wouldn't be until nearly one o'clock the next morning before they left that tower. And they would be far closer than they had been just 13 hours ago.

-BREAK-

It was a surprisingly bright and warm day in late September when Lily Evans became Lady Lily Potter, wife to Lord James Charlus Potter, Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter. The two 18 year olds married in the large gardens behind the heavily damaged Mt. Plastes. Lily had always imagined a small wedding, with just a few friends and family to witness the occasion. But on that day, she was surrounded by hundreds of pureblooded Lords and Ladies, and numerous reporters. Of course, she had friends there, as did James, but sadly, her parents could not make it, and Petunia had never responded to the invitation.

James looked quite dashing standing before the minister (the man had all but demanded to marry the young couple). He had long black dress robes, with gold and red accents. The Potter crest was expertly sewn onto his right breast, his pants were neatly pressed, and his dragonhide boots shone in the morning light. Despite all this, his hair was still a mess.

As for herself, Lily had been told all morning she looked beautiful. She wore her own dress robes, however, hers were red and gold, with no black to be seen. She wore no makeup that day, and her long red hair was put into two braids, and wrapped gently around her head, as if the braids were a crown.

"You look beautiful," he said, as the minister began the ceremony.

She smiled. She was glad she had asked him to Hogsmeade.

-BREAK-

It had been less than a year since he had married Lily, and now, he had a son. The young Potter (Hadrian Sirius, or "Harry" as his mother called him) looked remarkably like a Black, and if it wasn't for his grandmother being a Black, one could say that his mother had slept with his namesake. The only thing preventing him from fully looking like a Black was his bright, almost glowing green eyes. When James had first met his sweet Lily, he had thought she had the brightest green eyes in the world, but then his son had been born. The child's eyes were almost the color of the killing curse.

"James, James, come here!"

James was broken from his thoughts as Lily shouted for him, he found her standing in front of the bathroom mirror, shock on her face, as she held a pregnancy test. James slowed as he neared her. Before any words left his mouth, a grin toar it's way across Lily's face, and she launched herself at him, her arms finding their way around his neck.

Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around his wife, in an effort to support her. She laughed loudly as she dropped to her feet and shoved the test in his face; it was positive.

"You're going to be a father! Again!" Lily shouted in pure joy. That was all James needed. He grabbed her into his arms again, and swung her around him, laughing gleefully as she did the same.

-BREAK-

To their great shock, their second child, James Charlus Potter II, was born on the exact day his older brother turned one, July thirty-first. The younger Potter boy looked nearly identical to the baby boy seen in James' baby pictures. He had black hair, light hazel eyes, and more Potter features than Black. And the Potter's adored him just as much as they did his older brother.

-PETER-

Peter Pettigrew looked at the ominous manor before him, and hoped he wasn't making a mistake. The Dark Lord's home was a three story Neo-Georgian styled mansion. The large house sat upon a hill, surrounded by tall forests; the nearest civilization of any kind, was a small muggle village about two kilometres to the West of the house. It was perfect for the feared Dark Lord.

Looking back, Peter should've said no. When Sirius Black came to him and showed him the Dark Mark on his left arm, he should've screamed, and called for help from the Order. He should've told James, and Lily, and Dumbledore, and Moody, and every other member of the Order of The Phoenix, that Sirius Black was a traitor in their midst. He should've told them when Regulus Black revealed himself as a Death Eater spy, same as his brother.

He definitely should've told someone when the Black brothers convinced him to join the Dark Lord and betray his friends secret. But it was too late now. Now, Sirius and Regulus Black led him up the stone walkway into the great manor before him. They led him to the most feared man in the Wizarding World. They led him to the complete, and total betrayal of two of his best friends, and their three infant children.

"You okay, Peter? You look like you're about to shit yourself mate." Sirius' voice broke the silence of the cold October night. Peter jumped slightly, and heard the Black brothers chuckle at his fright.

He glared at the elder Black brother, "I'm fine, Sirius."

Sirius raised an eyebrow and looked down at the shorter man (curse his unnatural height), "It's okay to be nervous Wormtail. You're about to meet the most powerful Dark Lord to ever live. Look, I know you don't want to do this to Prongs and Lily, but it's for the good of the Wizarding damned muggles are destroying it. They need to be stopped!"

Peter couldn't help but calm slightly when he heard the name Wormtail. It had been a long time since any of his fellow marauders had referred to him as such. In fact, since they had left Hogwarts, the other three had switched almost entirely to Peter. And he had to admit, he missed the camaraderie they had as the marauders. He missed their Hogwarts days, before James and Sirius got married, and had kids, before Remus had to deal with the social issues of being a werewolf. Before Sirius was a Death Eater, and before Peter was to become one too.

"Really, Padfoot, I'm fine." Sirius gave him a long look, before returning his eyes to the road ahead. They were nearing the house's large front doors, and he could see several Death Eater guards.

The wizards (at least, he assumed they were wizards; he had never heard of a captured or killed Death Eater being female) looked quite handsome in their regalia. They wore a well kept uniform, very similar in design to that of a World War Two Nazi officer, a red undershirt, black tie, dark grey tunic and pants (that were rather baggy in the thigh area, for easier movement, Peter was told), polished black dragonhide boots, and a simple black robe. Peter believed that the men wore less decorative uniforms during raids, the Nazi-esque uniform being mostly for show.

As they passed by the guards, Peter realized that they were Lords, for they both kept a sword on their belt. He turned to Sirius, for Sirius too kept a sword on his belt, being the Lord of House Black.

The doors of the manor opened into a high ceilinged entrance hall. Directly before them was a staircase, leading to the second, and then third floors. Sirius and Regulus led him around the staircase, and through the doors that sat behind, into a large dining hall. Surrounding the room on three sides, were Death Eaters, each with a hand on the sword at their waist, all in dress uniform. These men were not Lords however, their swords were different. Less flashy, less decorative, they were purely function; they held no beauty. The sword at Sirius' hip was the ancestral sword of House Black, almost as old as the family itself. It was deadly yes, but it was quite beautiful at the same time.

At the end of the hall was a marble dais, on which sat a throne. Sitting on the throne was the Dark Lord himself, in all his glory. The man was unnaturally tall and gaunt, nearer to seven feet than six, and no more than nine or ten stone. His paleness, like his height, was unnatural. He appeared almost ghost like, his hair was dark and curly, and his eyes seemed to glow red. Despite his rather strange appearance, he was most definitely handsome.

His power however, whatever rituals he had done worked. His magical presence was oppressive. He could physically _feel_ the man's magic. It was like the air itself was trying to force him down, the pressure getting more intense the closer he got to the Dark Lord in his throne, and by the time he reached the stairs to the dais, the pressure was too much, and he collapsed to his knees. He was smarter than most assumed, and didn't try and stand back up, that only promised pain.

"Peter Pettigrew, I'm told you have something to tell me. Is this true?"

The Dark Lord's voice cut through the room like a hot knife through butter. It was cold, and regal, but there was an edge to it, that promised death to those who made enemies of him. The voice fit its owner.

"Yes, My Lord, the Potters live at 18 Godric's Hollow." Peter spoke quickly, the pressure around his throat increased drastically as he spoke. He barely managed to speak the last words before he began to choke.

"I thank you for that information, Peter, but I am not your Lord. After all? What use would I have for a worthless little rat like you?"

The Dark Lord seemed more amused than angry by Peter's use of the word my. Peter was terrified. The Dark Lord began to chuckle; it was a cold, evil sound, and Peter hated it. Sirius stepped forward as his vision began to darken.

"Please don't kill him, master. He's one of my oldest friends, and you're right about him being a rat. He's an animagus. He could be a good spy."

Voldemort looked at Sirius for several tense seconds, and Peter was sure his friend would die. He was sure he would die as well. And then, the feeling of choking left, and the pressure in the room left. He gasped for breath, and stood slowly, grasping his knees for support.

"Thank you, master."

Voldemort waved him off and spoke again, "He will not be marked, you and Regulus must pay attention to the Potters, make sure they are gone from their home on Halloween night, for I shall attack then."

Voldemort turned away at that point and walked out. The Black brothers grabbed Peter by his arms and half carried the large man out of the manor.

Peter definitely made a mistake.

-VOLDEMORT-

Voldemort looked at the large cottage before him. It was a rather quaint home. The building was perfectly symmetrical, the front door stood in the very center of the first floor; above the door and on the second story was a window, and above that (breaking out from the roof) was a much smaller window. There was a window on either side of the door, and one above each of those two windows. A chimney rose on either side of the house, likely with a fireplace in each the kitchen and living room. Overall, the cottage had the same 18th century feel as most of the Wizarding World.

He flicked his wrist, and his wand fell into his hand.

"Tempus," he intoned.

The glowing numbers appeared before him:

12:11 AM

Saturday, October 31st, 1981

He nodded to himself; the already short distance from the fence gate to the front step of the small porch was made even shorter by his long stride. With a flick of his wand an overpowered silencing ward was erected, and with a jab, the front door was blasted inwards. The mudblood that he knew would be watching the Potter brats jumped up from the couch and began casting with abandon, Tom had to admit, for a mudblood, the man had talent. He was completely silent, and his spells near colorless. Unfortunately for him, Tom had much more talent. The duel was quick, brutal, and efficient. The mudblood had time for merely ten spells before Tom had him on the defensive. And before long, a dark cutting curse hit the younger man in the neck, and in an obscene burst of blood, he lay on the ground dead. Tom took a brief look around the room. It was destroyed. There were giant gouges in the wall, blast marks marred furniture, and there was a hole in the ceiling, from which Tom could hear children crying. Hopefully the oldest Potter wasn't dead. That would fuck his plans.

Tom walked through the wreckage of the first floor to the stairs (which luckily for him, were untouched), and ascended them quickly. The crying only increased as he made his way to the small bedroom that housed the infants. He found the oldest of them quite easily and grabbed the young boy, before apparating away with a loud boom, forcing his way through the powerful wards around the home, and disappearing into the night.

-LILY-

At the same moment as Voldemort apparated away with their oldest son, James and Lily Potter fell to the ground, gasping for breath as they felt magic being ripped from their bodies.

"The wards!" Lily cried out in horror, as she fell unconscious.

 **AN: I hope you enjoyed, I'm about done with the next chapter, so I'll try and release that in about three weeks (around December 6th).**

 **Thank you for reading, and as always,**

 **Tyrano out**


	3. II

**II**

 **-VOLDEMORT-**

Tom looked at his Death Eaters in anger. No, it was not them he was angry at, but the blasted mudblood lover James Potter. The man had steadily become more and more of a pain in the ass over the last five years, ever since Hadrian Potter should've started Hogwarts.

It all began on July 31st, 1990, Hadrian's 11th birthday (the 10th and 9th birthday of his younger two children), when Tom had staged an attack on Diagon Alley. Hundreds of students and their families had been traversing the densely packed streets. When the aurors arrived, Captain James Potter led them. Within seconds he was ripping killing curses, diffindos, and bombardas at the Death Eaters. His loyal soldiers had been shocked, they were unused to aurors attacking so violently. Lucius later informed him that at a top secret Wizengamot meeting, the Wizengamot had given the Auror Corps the right to use deadly force if they deemed it fit.

While the Auror Corps had always been filled with competent duelists, they had always been limited to spells not immediately lethal. Whereas the Death Eaters had free reign in regards to their magic use and targets. The sudden change in resistance ability had severely wounded the moral of the Death Eaters. No longer would they be able to walk over their victims.

It only got worse from that point, the Auror Corps began a heavy recruiting campaign, jumping their numbers from one hundred, to over one thousand in the span of less than a year. They scoured ministry records for squibs that had joined the muggle military, and hired them to teach auror instructors how to effectively fight as a team.

Since 1990, over two hundred and fifty Death Eaters had been killed. Less than one hundred aurors experienced the same fate. It reminded Tom far too much of his early days as a Dark Lord.

He called out loudly, "Lucius! Come here."

His slippery follower walked quickly to his lord.

"Yes, my lord?"

"How many?" The words were void of emotion.

"Ten dead my lord, eighteen injured, two captured."

"What of the aurors? Have Sirius and Regulus returned?"

Lucius gulped loudly, around them, Death Eaters stopped what they were doing, looking nervous, whatever was wrong with the Blacks, Tom knew he would be angry.

"Answer me Lucius. What is wrong with the Blacks?"

Lucius took a shuddered breath, and looked down, when he spoke, it was almost a whisper.

"I regret to inform you my lord, that Sirius is with the Order. Regulus was captured. His cover is blown."

Tom saw red. One of his best spies, captured. This was not how he planned the last few years to go.

"Where is Severus? Are they wary of him or Sirius? And for that matter, where is Regulus being held?"

Lucius was silent for a moment, before he answered. "Severus is in the med-room, he took a bonebreaker to his left calf during the raid, I do not believe the light is being shined on either of them. They are spies for a reason, they are excellent actors, and Regulus would never give up any of our secrets, he's far too strong an occlumens. Regulus is likely in the ministry, they'd want to check his health, and try to interrogate him before sending to an Azkaban holding cell."

"Begin preparations for rescuing him. Take Barty and the Lestranges. Attack at night, and do it quietly. Use knives if you need to, just don't get caught. Tell me when Sirius and Severus get back."

With those words, and a sweep of his cloak, Tom stood and disappeared into the shadows.

 **-REGULUS-**

Ministry Holding cells were dark and wet. Being designed to hold a person for two days at the longest, little mind was paid to the cleanliness of them. As long as no one could break out of them, they were adequate. Well, adequate for the DMLE, for Regulus Black however, being placed in one was the ultimate insult.

His prison was no more than a ten foot cube, made of three stone walls, a stone floor, and a stone ceiling. The fourth wall consisted of regularly spaced iron bars, disrupted only by a door made of near identical bars. There was a large stone bowl with a faucet above it, meant to act as both toilet and sink, on the left wall. On the back wall was a large stone slab, supposedly, this was his bed. Regulus couldn't understand how it could be considered so, there was no mattress, and it had long since began eroding.

All in all, he quite missed the Black Manor. He had been sat here for hours, with no end to his boredom in sight. Honestly, what was taking Sirius so long? The Dark Lord would've ordered a rescue mission immediately. Even if his cover was blown, he was still one of the best duelists within the Death Eater ranks, poor Higgins in the next cell was was expendable, he wasn't. Regulus supposed he should have some fun while he waited.

"Guard!" No answer. "Guard! I know you can hear me!"

Still no answer.

"Guard!"

"WHAT?! What do you want, you Death Eater scum?" Hmm, it was Hestia Jones. How unfortunate.

"Aw, don't be like that Hestia! I'm surprised you hadn't figured it out by now! You saw me naked quite regularly, and you've always been good at seeing through glamours. "

His former lover didn't answer, how droll.

"Really Hestia? The silent treatment? You aren't that much younger than me! Only ten years! You are far from a child."

"Just shut up will you! You're nothing but a filthy fucking traitor to the wizarding world!"

Very suddenly, Regulus grabs the bars, and stares through them. He can see Hestia's side as she flinches from the sudden movement and noise. She turns to look at him.

He all but hisses his next words, "No Hestia, you are the only traitor here. I fight for the freedom and purity of the Wizarding World. You are a blood traitor, willing to kill your fellow wizard, just to protect some worthless, random, muggle fucking waste of space." He can see the tears in her eyes, he supposes she might have truly cared for him. Too bad.

"Release me now, and I'll see to it that you survive. My lord is a forgiving man. Swear your service to him, and you will live." He supposes he cared for her too.

Hestia stares at him through the bars. Unaware of the bleach-blond man standing behind her. More tears leek from her eyes. She looks ready to collapse sobbing as she speaks.

"I'm sorry Reggie. But I can't do that. You killed two aurors today. You've killed many more in the past. You must pay for your crimes."

Regulus sighs and nods, before grabbing her hand through the bars (quite a poor design choice on the part of the Ministry). "I'm sorry too. Do it Lucius."

Hestia looks confused, before she turns around in horror, wand falling into her right hand. Unfortunately for her, she's too slow. She makes it halfway before Lucius shoves a dagger into her side, covering her mouth with his left hand. Barty unlocks the door to his cell as he watches his lover fall to the ground, barely breathing, and unable to do anything but lean against the bars.

He takes her wand from her limp hand as he steps out. He looks at her, she looks back. He can see the agony in her eyes.

He looks away as he raises her wand, and whispers his final words to her, "I'm sorry 'Tia. Avada Kedavra."

The green spell hits her, and the light leaves her eyes. He takes the knife Lucius offers him.

"Are we bringing Higgins?"

Lucius responds in the negative.

Regulus raises the stolen wand again, "Avadava Kedavra." The green light flies straight through the iron bars of Higgins' cell, killing him before he can beg for his life.

"Let's get the fuck out of here." Regulus drops the wand on Hestia's body and walks out of the detention room, not sparing a glance behind him.

Barty begins to speak, but falls silent at the shake of Lucius' head. After a brief moment, they follow Regulus.

 **-SIRIUS-**

Sirius looked around the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place. He was surrounded by Order members. Half were screaming at each other. A quarter looked ready to kill themselves. And the remainder stared at him. He supposed he would too, if he were in their position. It wasn't everyday that you learned one of the men who hosted your vigilante groups meetings secretly fought for the enemy. Still though, people had been screaming at each other for hours. Sirius grew tired of it. He needed to report to the Dark Lord. He wanted to be part of his brother's rescue party.

"ENOUGH!" Dumbledore's voice cut through the screaming. The old man must've noticed how tired he was.

"We've argued for the past five hours. Perhaps we could speak like adults for five minutes?" Dumbledore looks around the room, with his 'I'm not mad, just disappointed' look. It's been known to make eighty year old men look down in shame, with those damn twinkling blue eyes.

The many Order members looked around, wondering who would speak first. Fucking children. Forty grown witches and wizards, and yet none of them was willing.

It was old Mad Eye who broke the silence. "Fucking hell you bunch of pussies. If none of you will ask it, I'll fucking do it. Did you know he was a Death Eater, Black?"

"Eloquent as always Alastor. But I must agree with his question Sirius. Did you know young Regulus was a Death Eater?" Dumbledore looked unfazed by Moody's outburst, unlike most of the other Order members.

"No, headmaster. I didn't. I wouldn't be sitting here if I did. And before you ask Moody, Reggie Jr. didn't know either. Regulus never would've told him."

Dumbledore opens his mouth to speak again, but Moody beats him to it.

"Sounds like bullshit to me Black. You've lived in the same house as him his entire life, and he's managed to keep this a secret for this long?"

" _Odd bastard is long overdue a killing curse. I'll have to give him one next raid,_ " Sirius thought to himself.

James answers Moody before Sirius can.

"Fuck off Mad Eye. If Sirius says he didn't know, he didn't. Why don't you question Snivellus? He's our resident Dark Mark holder. Surely he should've known!"

How inconvenient for the man, that Snape isn't here to defend himself. There's mutterings around the room, clearly most people agree with the sentiment. If there was another Death Eater within their midst, why didn't their spy warn them?

The man was a godsend, how perfectly he deflected the rightful blame from Sirius, despite not knowing it. Within minutes, he had gone from being the prime suspect to a man all but exonerated. James truly possessed a remarkable talent for making people agree with him, he always had. Ever since their first days in Hogwarts the Potter Lord had been bending people over backwards with his tongue, it was awe inspiring to watch. The man may denounce the traditionally pureblood way of life (dueling and politics), but he had a great ability for both. It was a shame he had chosen the muggles over his fellow mages.

Sirius truly thought of James as a brother; he always had, and always will. But the bespectacled man served the wrong side, and he would burn with the rest of the magic traitors eventually. And however unfortunate that may be, the man had betrayed his blood, betrayed his world, and that was unexceptable.

Sirius gave James a nod as Dumbledore tried to control the rumour spreading and general hysteria, after all, if one Death Eater could hide amongst them for years, what was preventing another from doing so?

James nodded back at him, and gave a sad smile, thinking Sirius must be in pain from learning his brother was a Death Eater, unwilling to drop the charade, Sirius returned it.

The door to 12 Grimmauld Place's basement kitchen is opened, and Severus Snape walks down the stairs, the greasy-haired man appeared haggard and had a slight limp in his step.

He wasted no time in speaking, his rough voice grinding out, "Regulus Black has escaped the ministry. Lucius Malfoy and Crouch Jr. were helping him into the infirmary as I left. According to Lucius Hestia Jones is dead, as is Romulus Higgins, both by Black's hand."

Pandemonium descends on the Order of The Phoenix. It had been months since a member of their own had died, they didn't know how to deal with the news. Especially as her murderer was the mad who had been her lover, who had been one of them meer hours ago. Sirius doesn't have to fake his shock, he never thought Reggie would be able to kill Hestia. Despite everything, he had loved the girl, even if he never said it. He supposes he shouldn't underestimate his brother in the future.

The Order is loud (particularly Dadelus Diggle and Amos DIggory), but Sirius is louder. "Is he hurt?"

A hush falls over the room, people either too shocked to speak, or perhaps curious about the answer themselves. In typical Moody fashion, Moody breaks the silence before Severus can respond.

"He's a Death Eater that was in Ministry custody, Black. What do you care if he's hurt?"

Sirius turns a furious glare to the grizzled old auror, and with words near a hiss, he lashes back at the man.

"Death Eater or not, he's my baby brother, and the godfather to my son. Answer the question Snape."

The addressed wizard does so before anyone else can blurt out their fool opinions.

"Not visibly at the least, but you would know better than I what killing his lover would do to him," the man grimaces and clutches his left arm (it takes all of Sirius' willpower to avoid doing the same to his hidden mark), before speaking again, "The Dark Lord calls, I must go to him."

At Dumbledore's nod, Snape turns, and with his cloak waving in the (nonexistent) wind behind him, makes his way back up the stairs and out the door. James stands as well, with Lily with him.

"We'll take our leave as well Headmaster, Jimmy and Cassi will want to know what's going on." Lily speaks for herself and her husband. James nods to Sirius and gives him a firm grip of the shoulder as they leave. Mutterings of reasons for leaving filter through the room, and the numerous wizards and witches make their way out, some through the fireplace near the table, others through the door.

Sirius stands and makes his way to the stairs, speaking as he goes, "I'll see you soon Headmaster, Reggie Jr. deserves to know what happened to his dad."

Dumbledore gives him a sad nod, before disappearing in a flash of fire, courtesy of the phoenix sitting on his shoulder.

Within minutes, the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place is empty, revealing the true nature of the large room; sad, dark, and lonely.

 **-HARRY-**

"This plan is stupid."

Harry looked around the alley. It was a cold day in London, the peak temperature for the day was barely supposed to reach 5 degrees. And yet, the Dark Lord wanted them to perform a raid, a stupid one at that.

Diagon Alley was minimally populated. The majority of its inhabitants composed of housewives buying groceries and a store owners. Occasionally someone buying a last minute Valentine's gift could be seen, what with the Day of Love being less than three days away. This raid was not designed to kill people, it was designed to introduce Harry to the Wizarding World at large. For fifteen years he had lived in hiding, training to be the best assassin his father could want. He was a master at his art. A better liar than the Black Brothers, crueler than the Lestranges, more slippery than Lucius Malfoy, a better duelist than his father himself. He was well trained, he was well equipped (several knives and daggers of various sizes and uses, three wands, and a muggle Browning Hi-Power firearm, charmed to be silent), he was the best.

At least, he would be, when he got some experience under his belt, beyond the mudbloods that were forced to duel him at wand point.

"Are you doubting your Lord Father?"

Harry throws Regulus a glare, the older man had a slightly unhealthy obsession with the rules, and a little bit too much respect for his father. It was truly a wonder the man had survived as a spy as long as he had, Harry had never seen him react well to a slight against his father, him sitting in an Order meeting would be amazing to see.

"No Reggie, I'm saying this plan is fucking stupid."

Barty snorts on his left. The Crouch heir had significantly less respect for authority than Regulus. Harry suspected it had to do with his father. From what he had heard, the Lord Crouch was incredibly strict, and a slight helicopter parent. It was sensible that Barty had developed a dislike for those in power, the man had been controlled for essentially his entire life. It was truly a wonder that he had stayed loyal to the Dark Lord for almost two and a half decades.

Regulus sends a glare to at the younger Crouch, and Harry too, in his mind, he was a terrible influence on Harry. The not quite seventeen year old was extremely impressionable, and considering he spent most of his time with Barty, he had appropriated all of the older man's bad habits, particular his penchant for vulgar language.

"Regardless of your opinion on the plan, this is how your father expects us to complete the raid."

Harry returned Regulus' glare, the second Black son had always acted like a second father. He already had one, he didn't need a second.

"Father's orders don't change the plans idiocy. The alley is far too small to have so many Death Eaters dispersed in the crowd. They'll be fucking eaten alive when the aurors arrive."

"Good thing they're unimportant. Why do you think they're all no names from the continent? This is your party, not theirs," Barty chimed in. "So long as the Wizarding World knows to fear you, the death of the others doesn't matter."

A heavy sigh is his only response. He slips his silver mask onto his face, and draws his wand. The battle will start soon, and people will die in the dozens.

-BREAK-

The first spell is unexpected. The people milling about Diagon Alley are shocked at the suddenness. One moment all is quiet, and in another, a killing curse rips through an older wizard near Flourish and Blott's. The effect is instant, no more than a second after his body hits the ground do people start screaming. Mayhem ensues, as the remaining twenty Death Eaters reveal themselves, launching spell after spell. Within a minute nearly twenty people are on the ground dead, or dying.

With a near silent crack, Harry apparated into the Leaky Cauldron. The dingy pub was nearly empty. With a swiftly cast cutting curse, the fat barkeeps throat began to gush blood. With a gurgle, the man fell against the wall, clutching at his neck in vain. The Dark Lord's heir could hear a sob from somewhere in the room.

Throwing a table out of his way, he finds a cute blonde haired girl near his own age not far from the restroom. Seeing him, she pushes herself along the ground further into the corner of the bar.

He kneels down in front of her, tilting his head, as if confused. Lightly, he rests his palm against her cheek. Her flinching away from his touch angers him, though it is unsurprising. More forcefully he grabs the right side of her face and speaks, near silent, "Look at me."

She does, and he slips his mask off. Her eyes widen at his youth, but before she can respond, his mind slips into hers with practiced ease. She feebly attempts to raise her mental barriers, but he has had years of practice to hone his skills as a natural at the mind arts.

Her name is Lisa Turpin and she's a halfblood Ravenclaw at Hogwarts. The fat barkeep was her uncle, and she was away from the castle celebrating her birthday with him, as she had just turned sixteen. She didn't know who he was, but she did know he wasn't much older than her, and he bore a striking resemblance to a classmate of hers; James Potter Jr., popularly called Jimmy.

He exits her mind at that thought, forcing himself to forget what he saw. He has a job to do.

She looks ready to break. Tears flow down her cheeks slowly, she knows whats coming, and she's terrified. He steels himself as he speaks.

"I'm sorry you know. But I have a destiny in this world. I can't allow anything to get in my way." He can tell she doesn't believe him, as an explosion rocks the building.

Very suddenly, she becomes cold. She lets out a strangled gasp as she looks down, for blood slowly seeps from a small wound just below her breasts. He presses a light kiss to her lips, had things been different, they may have ended up in a relationship, but the world was a cruel place.

The tears fall faster as he stands, sliding his mask into place. He speaks once more as he nears the door.

"I'm truly sorry it had to be this way. Avada Kedavra." The killing curse strikes her chest, and the tears stop at once. He looks at her now glassed over eyes, and it takes all his mental strength to force himself through the pubs door. He has work to do.

The alley is a mess as he steps through the door. Bodies, alive and dead, Death Eater and civilian, line the stone street. He's slightly taken aback by the amount of bodies. He had only spent a few minutes in the pub, and yet there were nearly fifty witches and wizards on the ground.

He sees Barty and Regulus a few hundred feet away. They're barely a foot apart, surrounded by aurors. It seems the remaining Death Eaters were among the dead. Harry allows his body to dissolve into a black mist, and suddenly he's moving forward, towards the screamed unforgivables, and his fiercely battling friends.

His fellows notice him approaching, but the aurors don't, that's good. As he reforms, he shoves a dirk into an older man's back. He gasps as he falls, his last spell lost on in favor of a dying gasp. Harry spins out of the way of a cutting curse, and returns one of his own. His attacker is a pink haired young woman. She has a pretty face, marred by rage. Probably his victims partner.

She dodges his attacks as he sends two more cutting curses and a piercing hex at her. She's fast, he muses, as she quickly responds with a rather dark curse, designed to choke someone on their own blood. The auror corps had become particularly vicious a few years ago.

Barty and Regulus are making quick work of the remaining aurors, they didn't seem to have the natural talent of this one. They were sluggish, weak. The pink haired auror was nimble. She had a grace about her dueling style that spoke of years of practice, surprising considering her age. Though, Harry supposed he couldn't talk, he was undoubtedly several years younger than the woman, and was dueling circles around her. Already, he had nicked her with more than a few cutters, and she was noticeably limping from a piercing hex that had gone through her left thigh.

An over the top jump and twist sent him careening over a blasting hex, an upward slash of his wand sent another cutter towards her left ankle. The sheer velocity on the curse made her attempt to dodge useless, as a half inch deep gash tore open her foot. A strangled cry left her mouth, as a cruciatus exploded from her wand (she must really hate him, for the curse was silent). He flicked his wan it into the door of the ice cream shop, as she struggled to her feet, gasping for breath.

Despite her skill, she was inexperienced, at least against Death Eaters. A killing curse sent just over her shoulder caused her to freeze, eyes wide. A stunner later, and she was on the ground, out for the count. Harry moved on quickly, ripping a dark haired witches back open with a dark cutter. He made his way towards Barty and Regulus, they were tiring quickly, and needed the battle to end soon. Luckily, only five aurors remained standing, and seeing the havoc surrounding them, they portkeyed away, at the leaders shouted "FALL BACK!"

Regulus took in a labored breath, searching the alley for movement, there was none. The three of them were the only ones standing, and visibly at least, the only ones alive (excluding the pink haired auror, who Regulus seemed to have a strange curiosity with). Harry decided to vocalize that thought.

"Reggie? Do you know her?"

Regulus looked at him and responded in the affirmative, "Sirius and I's cousin. Nymphadora Tonks. If you had gone to Hogwarts, her seventh year would've been your first."

Harry gave a slow nod, before turning to the sky. With a stab of his wand, and a muttered "Morsemordre," a glowing green dark mark emblazoned the sky, oddly beautiful, despite the horror on the ground below it.

He turned to his fellows, "Let's get the fuck out of here."

Barty disapparated immediately. Regulus gave him a quick nod before doing the same. With one last look around the destroyed alley, Harry too disapparated, ready for a long bath.

 **-JAMES-**

James Potter truly hated his job some days. He enjoyed patrolling Hogsmeade as Hogwarts students milled about, he enjoyed working security at Quidditch games. He did not enjoy getting called in on his day off because of a Death Eater raid.

Diagon Alley was all but destroyed. Dozens of shops were missing windows, doors, and parts of walls. Several were even burning (or already burned). Bodies lined the street, as all those who were fortunately still living had been evacuated to Saint Mungo's, or were being treated by Medi-Aurors (specialized aurors who had received medical training, beyond the basics).

Being an Auror Captain, he had to oversee the investigation, so hopefully he could retreat to the Auror office fairly quickly, James was certain he was going to throw up if he had to stomach the scent of death for more than a few minutes.

Upon spotting him, James made his way over to Kingsley, as the black auror kneeled down next to Junior Auror Tonks.

"What the bloody hell happened Kings? There hasn't been a raid this bad in over a decade!"

Kingsley sighed and stood up, leaving the Medi-Auror to tend to Tonks. He seemed tired when he spoke, "I don't know James. Nearly forty dead, that we've found. There's a few people still unaccounted for, probably stuck under the rubble of their shops. So far, it looks like another random attack, just more successful."

James frowned, he didn't like that. There had to be something that set this raid apart, besides the body count of course. "And the Death Eaters? Anyone we know?"

Kingsley shook his head. "Unknowns from the continent. Half of them have been missing for years. According to Tonks and the other surviving aurors, three Death Eaters are missing. All with silver markings, and one with a silver _mask_."

James raised an eyebrow at Kingsley. A silver mask? James had never heard of such, they were special, now James just had to figure out why. The taller auror nodded, he knew the significance of such a mask. James kneeled down to look at one of the dead aurors, it was Robards, he had no identifiable wounds other than a knife in the small of his back.

"Anything else big happen?"

Kingsley sighed, and James didn't like the sound of it.

"Dead Hogwarts student."

James's head snapped up. He _really_ didn't like that.

"Who?"

"Lisa Turpin, Ravenclaw, same year as Jimmy. She was celebrating her sixteenth birthday with her uncle, Tom, over at the Cauldron."

"Fuck…" James didn't know what else to say, how are you supposed to respond when you learn that one of your kids yearmates is dead? "How?"

"Tom took a cutter to the neck, poor bastard didn't even have time to draw his wand. The girl got hit with a piercer to the stomach, before being finished with an AK. Tonks thinks it was the silver mask, he showed up late to the main duel, and by then pretty much everyone else in the alley was dead, or dying."

James nodded and looked at Tonks, besides a few scrapes, his best friends cousin looked largely unharmed.

"You look mostly okay Tonks, what happened?"

Tonks grimaced as the Medi-Auror made her drink a blood replenishing potion, despite being overtly helpful, it was truly a vile substance.

"The silver-masked Death Eater. Bastard is good. He was dueling circles around me," She shivered, and looked downright terrified. "He's the greatest duelist I've ever seen. Better than both of you, Sirius, and even Moody. I sent a cruciatus at him towards the end of the duel, and he redirected it! Without even a grunt of effort, he sent it into the door of Fortescue's. After, he surprised me with an AK. Sent it wide over my shoulder, and hit me with a stunner while I was still in shock."

She looked down here, quite clearly disappointed in herself. James had no time for self-pity, it was a useless thing, he had learned that the hard way.

"Don't pity yourself Tonks. Be glad that you are alive, and be prepared to beat him should you cross paths again," James told her with a steely glint in his eye.

The young woman nodded and with the permission of the Medi-Auror, took a portkey to St. Mungo's.

James turned to Kingsley and sighed, they had lots of work to do.

 **-HARRY-**

Harry kneels before his father, mask firmly in place. His breathing was heavy, for it had been no more than fifteen minutes since the end of the raid. Ten of those had been spent cataloging the results of the raid, the remaining five relaxing slightly before speaking to the Dark Lord, it would not do to be _completely_ winded when speaking to him. But at the same time, one should not keep his father waiting, he was far too liberal with his usage of the cruciatus for that, even on him.

His father sat in his throne within Riddle Manor, his gaunt form misleading in the gilded chair. Despite his intense magical power, his father neared seventy years old, and due to his regular use of powerful, and dangerous, dark magic, all seventy of those years showed. Each year, his father got progressively worse looking, while not necessarily noticeable from year-to-year, his father's looks ten years ago, were startlingly different from the present day.

His father's voice was high and cold, almost devoid of life, though Harry knew this to be a practiced skill, used for intimidation. From memories he had seen of the man's earlier years, he knew his voice remained unchanged from his time being known as Tom Riddle.

"I take it you were successful?" His expectant father asked (more stated, but that mattered little to Harry).

Harry took a deep breath, still slightly winded from battle, before speaking, "Yes father. Of the Death Eaters from the continent, none remain." His father looked unsurprised. "On the other hand, there were thirty-seven civilian casualties by our count, including twenty-seven deaths. And twenty-two Auror casualties, nineteen dead. Half the alley is in ruins, and the other half is barely standing. I was sure to make my mask noticeable, they will know something is different about me. In time they will learn to fear my name."  
His father let out a booming laugh at this. Harry had to hold back a flinch, unlike his voice, his laugh was real. It was regal, but endlessly cruel, while it contained unrestrained joy, there was no kindness or love of any sort. There was a reason he laughed very rarely, it truly gave away who he was. His father the man before him may be, but a terroristic Dark Lord he was too.

"Of that I have no doubt, my dearest child. Send Barty and Regulus in. And then retire. You leave at midnight for your first assassination. You will find all you need to know lying on your bed." He dismissed Harry with a casual wave towards the door.

Harry couldn't help but feel a slight anger at this, he was the man's son for Merlin's sake! Not some filthy Death Eater, but he controlled himself, his time for the spotlight would come, one day.

-BREAK-

It was as his father said. All the relevant information had sat on his bed. It undoubtedly came from Snape and Sirius, the target being a middle of the pack Order member, by the name of Dedalus Diggle. The man was closer to fifty than forty, balding, and of a truly horrifying pale color, nearly resembling a ghost. Despite this, he was of pure blood, and came from a modest House. House Diggle no longer held the prestige it did during the First World War, but they still held a seat on the Wizengamot, and were by no means poor.

Diggle, his wife, and his three children (ages three, five, and eighteen), lived in a modest manor near Lancaster. They would be an easy target. The protections around the home were practically non-existent, the Diggle's were far too trusting of their fellow Magicals. Quick, clean, and easy, the whole affair would take less than twenty minutes if all went well. Harry glanced at the clock, sending a patronus to his father, he left the manor with a quiet crack.

As expected, the Diggle Manor was unassuming, but not unimpressive by any means. Harry walked through the wards with ease. They were fickle things, designed to detect only people with hate meant in their business. Harry held no hate for the Diggle family, they were a means to an end. It was almost sad in a way, that such fine purebloods had been taken in by the foolish Order of the Phoenix and the senile old cunt Dumbledore, for they could've been leaders in the New Age of the Magical World. There was no need for them to die, not really. Regardless, they stood in his way, a test of his strength, of his character. Harry was not in the business of failing tests.

The door swung in with a silent _alohamora_ , it was truly pitiful that they left their safety on a lock and a ward that any OWL Runes student could erect. Entering the manor he climbed the stairs quickly, taking the steps two at a time. The old house was surprisingly quiet, the chiming of a clock somewhere being the only noise. Besides the rather loud snoring coming from the third floor.

Harry followed the sound of the snoring until he reached (what he assumed was) the master bedroom. His suspicions were confirmed on entry. In the center of the room sat a large bed, barely visible except by the slight moonlight streaming in through the cracked window. Harry could make out one figure in the bed… wait! One?! Where was the other, and which was missing?

Harry's breathing took a hard edge, already things were going wrong. The sound of a flushing toilet startled him, and he barely managed to mold himself to the wall as a door was thrust open, and a slight woman made her way from the newly discovered bathroom. Harry collected himself briefly as she neared the bed, and without making a sound, a killing curse ripped from his wand, and the woman collapsed to the floor like a puppet with her strings cut.

Diggle started at the sound of his wife hitting the ground, sitting up in bed, he only had time to turn on a lamp, as he was blasted back into his headboard by a second killing curse. Harry let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, two down, three left standing.

He nearly shat himself when the door was thrust open and a young woman in naught but her sleepwear burst in, wand held tightly in hand.

"Dad?! Are you okay, I heard someth…" She trailed off as she took in the scene before her. Harry, his own wand in hand, dressed in Death Eater robes and silver mask, standing near her (clearly) dead parents. She let out a slight sob as she ripped a disarming charm at him.

Still stunned by the appearance of a (rather attractive) girl in quite revealing clothing, her spell caught him unprepared, and she deftly caught his wand, before running through the bedroom door, making for the nearest fireplace (Harry assumed).

His brain finally catching up, Harry drew a muggle handgun from his cloak, and tore after her, he couldn't allow her to warn anyone. He caught her as she was no more than two metres from the fireplace, and a single nine millimetre bullet caught her in the back. The girl gasped as she fell, the force of hitting the ground knocking both her wand, and Harry's, loose from her hand. Desperately, she tried to crawl closer to the fireplace, but it was all for naught. Harry summoned his wand from the ground, and with a quick spell, flipped her onto her back, and dragged her to his feet.

She was crying, not unlike the Hogwarts girl had, not even twelve hours ago. He felt an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach, just as he had with the girl earlier. It was… pity. Harry didn't like it. It made him weak, he had a job to do, and nothing could come in the way of that.

He kneeled down next to her, and removed his mask. The girl reacted like the Hogwarts girl, she was shocked by his youth. She tried to speak, he silenced her with a finger.

"No," He began, "Don't speak, you'll waste what little time you have left with meaningless words. Instead, listen."

She was, she was sobbing silently now, her eyes staring into his.

"I don't hate you. Just like I didn't hate that girl in Diagon Alley. You are an unfortunate victim, caught in the crossfire of a war your parents caused you to get dragged into. Had it not been for them joining the Order of the Phoenix, you may have never even seen me." Harry sighed, the pity was threatening to take him over, he had to make this quick, or he might not succeed.

He gently grabbed the side of her head, before continuing.

"Know this as you make your way to the great unknown, you did nothing to deserve this. You are merely a means to an end. I'm sorry…"

With those last two words, Harry slammed her head into the wooden floor, knocking her unconscious.

Harry stands, and begins the most dreaded magical words, "Avada Kedav…"

He doesn't finish them for as he says the fifth syllable, nearly twenty spells rip through the front door, showering the sitting room and entrance hall with debris. Harry takes cover behind one of the couches, and fires blindly out the front door, emptying his magazine, and hitting at least one person, if the screamed "Fuck!" is anything to go by.

Berating himself for taking so long, he rips through the anti-apparation wards as wizards and witches stream though the front door. He leaves his mask on the ground, the word "Filsdemort" emblazoned on the forehead of it in fiery letters. The last thing he sees before he passes out is a bright orange spell striking his stomach; the effort of ripping through the wards taking too much of a toll on his magical reserves.

 **-LILY-**

"It's French."

The various small conversations around the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place came to a halt. Sirius gave her a weird look.

"French? What do the Frogs have to do with this new Death Eater?"

Lily takes a deep breath. Everyone in the room has their eyes on her, even Dumbledore. Looking at him, she can see he knows what she's about to say.

"'Filsdemort', it's French. It means 'Son of Death', or literally translated "Death Son." Lily all but whispered. "So is Voldemort, it means "Flight from (or of) Death", I think you can guess what the name of this Death Eater means."

The room was silent, the many witches and wizards didn't know how to comprehend this information. Voldemort himself was bad enough, but him having a son? That was unthinkable.

It was Sirius who broke the silence.

"Wait, you know French?"

Lily almost laughed, almost. Trust Sirius to respond to an incredibly serious (no pun intended) piece of news, with a joke. Moody glared at him.

"Shut up Black, that's not the point."

Sirius glared back, "I'm aware Mad-Eye, just because I make jokes doesn't mean I'm stupid. Now, why the fuck hasn't Snivellus said anything about this? He's supposed to be in The Dark Lord's inner circle, surely he would've known about the man having a son!"

This time, it was James who broke the silence, having just arrived from the Ministry. "The kid is a vicious little shit. Emma Diggle is nearly dead. Had the Order arrived thirty seconds later, regardless of the fact that he was probably preparing to finish her off, the 8 gram chunk of burning metal an inch from her spine would've killed her."

James sat down next to his wife with a heavy sigh, truly, he hated his job sometimes. The Order waited for him to speak again, and he did.

"The Ministry is going spare, they want to know who he is, where he came from, and why he's only just appearing. In less than twenty four hours, he has killed six people, including a Hogwarts student, a respected businessman, two aurors, and two other Ministry workers. The aurors are on red alert, double shifts, double patrols, double everything. Half the Hitwizard squads in the country have been activated, and they are patrolling everywhere. Croaker and the Department of Mysteries are working in doubletime trying to track this kids Magical Signature, with no luck as of yet."

Lily grabbed her husband's hand, and held it close. Days like these made her glad she was a teacher. Dealing with children all day was relatively easy, being a high ranking Dark Wizard catcher? That was another story. Being a member of the Order was enough, with the occasional battle against Death Eaters, but she knew she didn't have the mental strength to do so on a daily basis, like her husband did. But behind the iron wall James presented, was a human being just as susceptible to emotion as she. She had held him as he cried on more than one occasion since he had become an auror, she had seen him throw up in the bathroom after returning home from a long shift, she had seen him rage about the cruelty of the world. She had seen it all. But she had never seen him so, resigned. Beyond tired, he seemed like he was all but ready to give up.

It was Sirius speaking again that brought her back to reality. "He has to be young. Considering his, effectiveness, we would've seen him before if he wasn't. I'm certain his age is the reason for his sudden appearance, the Dark Lord probably only decided recently that he was ready for the front lines."

"Or, maybe he's now proved his worth to Voldemort." Piped up Amos Diggory from the far corner of the room. "That monster is known to be extremely picky when it comes to his innermost circles, it stands to reason that the same would apply to his child. If it is his child."

The Headmaster stroked his long beard in thought, before he threw his hat into the ring.

"I must agree with Sirius. When Tom Riddle attended Hogwarts, he was well known to be a brilliant student, and an exceptional tutor, when you got past the superiority complex. I find it unlikely that his son, who he has likely trained since he was a small child, would be anything less than his father. The skill displayed at the Diagon Alley raid proves this. We will know for sure when Ms. Diggle awakens. For now, go home, hold your family close, and be prepared for the coming weeks. The Wizarding World is truly at war again."

 **AN: Aight, I hope you enjoyed the early chapter. I'm going to try to stick to posting every 3-4 weeks (most likely on either Tuesday or Thursday), so you can expect the next chapter around Christmas Day, or New Year's Day. If you want to favorite, follow, or review, go for it, I would appreciate that.**

 **Tyrano out**


	4. III

**III**

-HARRY-

Death was the only constant in life; according to his father, at least.

No matter who you were, rich or poor, tall or short, male, female, a politician or a beggar, one day you would die. His father had repeated those words to him every day of his, for as long as he could remember, all the way back to his childhood.

His father told him that, his father had Bella and Rodolphus and Lucius tell him that. Father had even gotten Nagini to tell him that. Every chance the Dark Lord got, he drilled into his son's head that death was always present, and always fair, and always random. It cared not who you were, or what you did, or where you came from; if it was you time to die, you would. All precautions you may take to avoid it would be bypassed, potions would fail, wards would fall, and you would die.

As a child, Harry had been terrified every time he heard those words, he would tense up, he would shiver, he would cry. Harry had been young, to him death was the scariest thing in the world, for he didn't understand it. In time he had grown used to the words, as his body and mind grew too. He had long become cold to the world around him. He had a destiny in this world, and he would do what he must to reach it.

His father had lectured him extensively when he woke from his last mission. Luckily for him, Amanda Diggle had yet to awaken from her coma, and showed no signs of doing so. Despite being in perfect physical condition (now), her consciousness simply refused to return from the depths of her mind, and repelled all mind healers attempting to enter. Considering that she was the only survivor of his attack, the amount of aurors and hitwizards around her made it unrealistic to try and finish her off. Their were bigger fish to fry, and it's not like she was going anywhere.

And that was why he was here, bigger fish. Spending nearly one thousand galleons, Lucius had found out the exact graveyard shift workers for the Ministry of Magic this very morning.

The Ministry of Magic was a massive building. Spanning ten stories, and nearly three kilometers, the seat of Government for the British Magical World could have as many as two-thousand people milling about at one time. As it approached two in the morning, there were exactly thirty-one people in the expansive building (thirty-two, if you counted Harry). This skeleton crew consisted of eleven Hitwizards (a standard ten man squad, plus one unlucky bastard who pulled the entrance guard shift), six aurors, ten assorted workers in smaller departments (such as two obliviators), two of the ministers secretaries, and his targets, the Minister for Magic and Senior Undersecretary themselves.

Appearing in front of the building's telephone booth entrance with nary a sound, Harry looked around quickly, assuring that he was by his lonesome in the alley. London was cold for an August morning, the temperature hardly reaching four degrees.

Not wanting to spend more time than was necessary in the cold Harry moved towards the sole bit of color for a hundred meters around him, and with three powerful strides he was in front of the booth, after opening the door and another step, he was in. Sensing his presence, the small structure lit up, and Harry held the phone up to his ear, dialing 62442.

A woman's voice filled his ear, "Please state your name and business in the Ministry of Magic."

Harry's lips twisted upwards in a small smirk, he knew that all responses were recorded, and a response was required to enter, so why not have a little fun?

"The King of Rock, I'm here to serenade the Minister to death."

A small slot opened up the under the phone, and a golden visitor badge popped out.

"Thank you Mr. Presley, please take your badge, and enjoy your visit to the British Ministry of Magic. Dial 36837 when you wish to descend."

Harry pulled out the badge, and couldn't help but laugh as he read it. The small metal shield named him as:

ELVIS PRESLEY: MUSICAL ASSASSIN

Sticking it in his back pocket (there was no way he wasn't going to keep such a hilarious badge), he dialed the entrance number and made sure his gear was all in place.

His Browning Hi-Power was snuggly fit into its holster near the small of his back, his wand was secured to his left forearm (his backup secured to his right forearm), ready to be drawn with a flick of his wrist, an assortment of twelve throwing knives rested on his right thigh, and the dagger his father gave him for his seventeenth birthday was sheathed on his left hip.

Slipping his mask into place and pulling his spelled hood up, he rolled his shoulders lightly to stretch himself out, and drew both his wand and pistol as the doors opened with a low pitched 'ding'. He walked quickly towards the guard station, where a lone hitwizard slept. Casting a wordless _muffliato_ mid-step, his feet were silenced, aiming another at his Hi-Power silenced that too. With deliberate slowness, he raised the gun and took aim at the sleeping man's head, tracking him as he diverged his path slightly to the left, now walking towards the elevators.

Nearing the elevator doors, he pulled the trigger a single time, the slight recoil surprising him as the bullet left the gun with no sound. The hitwizard's head snapped backwards slightly as the nine millimeter full metal jacket bullet struck him, he slid off his chair slowly, giving a light 'thunk' as he hit the ground, never to cast another spell.

Harry's long strides carried him quickly to the elevators, despite the massive size of the ministry atrium. A push of a button opened the magical elevators doors, and another button sent him hurtling towards the first level, containing the offices of the Minister and his various Ministerial Aides. Like the telephone booth, the elevator opened with a slight 'ding', to his luck no one was around to hear it.

Level one was the smallest in the building, moving silently Harry reached the main door to the Minister's office quickly. Checking his watch, Harry saw that he had but minutes left until Fudge returned from his walk (Harry didn't know how Lucius found out about this part, just that it had cost him nearly one thousand galleons itself, on top of the thousand for the list of people who would be in the building).

" _Homenum revelio_ ," he whispered along with a flick of his wand. Two white outlines immediately appeared in the small waiting room, where Harry knew two desks sat, to the left and right of the door into the Minister's office proper. Hardly a second after the spell, Harry raised his pistol and fired twice at each outline, killing both of the aides within half a second of each other. He pushed the door open lightly, gun still raised, sure enough neither of the women were breathing, he levitated the bodies into the nearby closet, and vanished the blood. A mending spell took care of the holes in the chairs, and soon enough there was no evidence of his having been there.

Leaving his badge on the right desk, Harry hid himself behind the doors into the waiting room and began his wait, in mere minutes the Minister would be back and he could finish the job.

-FUDGE-

Cornelius Fudge walked slowly through the long hallway of the Ministry of Magic's first level. He was half awake at best, nearly asleep at worst, having been stuck in this damn building for nearly eighteen hours now. He was truly glad that it was Saturday, for as soon as this shift was over, he would get to go home, have breakfast with his wife, and not have to come back to the office until eight in the morning on Wednesday, giving him a full four days off. He did so love his one long weekend a month.

Making his way into his waiting room, his mind became more coherent as he noticed that neither of his graveyard shift aides were at their desks. His office too proved to be empty.

'By Merlin, where are those lazy shites? I should've never let Dolores hire my aides, of course she chose the oldest, and most useless candidates,' He thought as something on Gloria's desk caught his eye.

Walking back into the waiting room, he picked up what appeared to be a visitor's badge off the desk. And sure enough, it was a visitor badge. Though the name was most peculiar, for it read 'ELVIS PRESLEY: MUSICAL ASSASSIN'. Cornelius was certain that he had heard that name before, but he couldn't quite figure out where.

He didn't have long to think, as a deep, but cold voice spoke behind him.

"I'll thank you for my badge back, Minister Fudge."

Cornelius whirled around, drawing his wand as he did so, regretting it instantly, as the speaker shot him in the hand with what he recognized as a muggle handgun (though it was curiously quiet, he had been led to believe that they were quite obnoxiously loud).

Looking at the speakers face, it took all of his willpower to not piss himself. He recognized the silver mask of the man believed to be He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's son, Filsdemort.

"Y-y-y-you, you shouldn't be here. The-there are more than fo-for-forty aurors in…" Cornelius let out a scream of pain, as Filsdemort shot him twice in the stomach. Forcing his arm against his stomach, he hoped he could stop the gushing blood.

"Don't lie to me Minister, my father spent a lot of galleons to find out who would be here this morning. He cares greatly about me, and wants me to succeed in life."

Cornelius could barely make sense of the man's words, in the mere seconds since he had been shot, already a significant amount of blood had left him, and Cornelius knew that he was going to die.

Tears began to leak out of his eyes as he replied to his soon-to-be killer, "So it's true, aye? You're his son."

Cornelius gave a gasp as the young man slipped off his mask, and dug the gun into his chin, he looked exactly like-

The assassin spoke before he could finish his train of thought.

"Adopted, but yes," the James Potter look-alike smirked, "Goodbye Minister."

Cornelius felt a burning in his jaw, before his knew no more.

-HARRY-

Harry pushed his pistol into the mans chin, before speaking.

"Adopted, but yes," He smirked as the Minister widened his eyes in recognition.

"Goodbye Minister," he said as he pulled the trigger, killing the man. He stood slowly, slipping his pistol back into its holster. As he was pulling his mask on, he heard a sharp scream to his left. He turned quickly, only to see the Senior Undersecretary herself, Dolores Umbridge. The frog-like woman screamed again upon seeing his mask, and turned to run away, and she was deceptively fast. Before she could get to far, Harry frantically re-drew his pistol, and pulled the trigger as he dragged it towards her. The first bullet struck her in the shoulder, attempting to pull the trigger again, he was disappointed to hear the telltale 'click' of an empty magazine. Shoving it back in his holster, he pulled one of his throwing knives, and hurled it at the woman, who had slowed down in the pain of being shot.

The knife lodged itself in her back, and Harry pulled out another as he began to walk quickly towards the now-limping woman. Merely steps away, he threw the second knife, sticking it in the pit of her left knee. This time, the overweight woman went crashing to the ground, pitifully, she began trying to half-pull and half-crawl away from him.

With a scoff, Harry drew his dagger, and kneeled down, thrusting his knee into her back, thereby locking her in place on the ground. The woman was openly sobbing now, as Harry held a finger to her lips, shushing her.

"Worry not, you'll be dead soon."

True enough, Harry drug his knife across her throat, killing her.

He stood, retrieved his knives and stuck them back in their slits in his pants. Hearing the elevator coming up, Harry summoned his badge.

The elevator doors opened, and the aurors and surviving hitwizards poured out. As he felt his hand close around the badge, Harry hissed out a killing curse, striking a tall auror near the front of the pack. As responding spellfire streamed back towards him, Harry spun quickly, apparating through the Ministry's wards, causing a loud boom.

-JAMES-

"Filsdemort?" He asked, standing over the body of a deceased Hitwizard.

It was Mad-Eye Moody who responded, "Aye. Little fucker snuck in to the damn place."

James looked at the scarred man with a raised eyebrow.

"And how'd he do that?"

Moody grimaced, "Fuckin' phonebooth. Bastard walked right fuckin' in."

"Do we have the recording of him?"

"Aye. We got tha recording."

"What did he say to get in?"

Moody let out a noise that seemed to be half snort, and half chuckle, before he responded.

"Fucker has a sense ah humor at least. He said, and I quote, "The King of Rock. I'm here to serenade the Minister to death". According to the records, the badge he got said "Elvis Presley: Musical Assassin"."

It takes all of James' willpower to not laugh at the name Filsdemort has supposedly had on the badge. It would be hypocritical to tell Moody not to laugh though, given how close James himself was to doing so.

Instead, James replies, "Laugh later Alastor. The Minister is dead."

Moody snorted again. "Aye, that 'e is. But it's not like the cunt ever did anything useful. 'Cept line his pockets with bribes."

James glared at the grizzled older auror. "Why'd no one in the Hitwizard squad notice? He literally entered the Ministry by claiming that he'd murder the Minister."

For the third time, Moody snorted (much to James' annoyance). "Skeleton Crew. There were only eleven of the fuckin' rejects here. That includes the deceased over there."

Why couldn't the man take anything seriously? Six people were dead, and he was making jokes about the Hitwizard squad. Was it his age? The years he had spent as an Auror? Or was he just naturally that deranged?

James pinched his nose. It was going to be a long few weeks. What with dealing with the press, investigating the assassination, investigating Filsdemort, and protecting the interim/new Minister. Lily was going to be pissed.

"And the Minister's personal Aurors? What the fuck were they doing? How the fuck did Filsdemort get so close to the Minister unimpeded?"

Moody gave a noncommittal shrug (which James should've expected, the man was a hell of an Auror, probably one of the best ever, but only when he cared), "Suckin' their own cocks? Shitheads, the lot of 'em. Fucking political graduates, I looked at their test scores, passed by mere points. They claim the Minister told them to take a break." Moody shook his head here, clearly unconvinced, "Sounds like a load a' cock to me. But they're fuckin' untouchable. Malfoy and his ilk 'll raise hell if we even try to formally question them."

James sighed loudly, something that seemed to be becoming a habit of his in these past few hours.

"And where's Amelia?"

Moody nodded towards the elevator, "Minister's office. Scrimgeour is with her."

James had expected that. Neither of them were very good at letting those below deal with investigations, they were Aurors through and through. Hell, if either of them were the next Minister, they'd still probably help with big investigations.

"Has the Wizengamot been called? We need to know who the Interim is as soon as possible."

Moody responded in the affirmative, "Last I checked, Dumbledore was explaining the situation, per the law, the vote for Auror Wizengamot members is being cast by their chosen fellow member."

That would be Sirius in his case. Likely, he would be choosing Amelia.

"Twenty galleons it's Rufus or Amelia," James said, sticking out his hand.

Moody appeared to think about it for a brief time, before he thrust his own hand out, and shook strongly with James.

"Fuckin' deal Potter. My bet is on one of Malfoy's goons. Hell, maybe even the man himself."

James smirked, this would be easy money. "I look forward to collecting those Galleons from you. And send Kings up to the Minister's office when he gets here."

Moody gave a two fingered salute as James walked towards the elevator, "Aye, Aye, Cap'n."

James returned one of his own, "Fuck off Moody. And get back to work."

-BREAK-

"And where were the Minister's Aurors!?"

The question is asked by Amelia as he exits the elevator. Luckily, she's not asking him, for the answer she gets just pisses her off more.

"A break? A fucking break!? Their AURORS. With the easiest assignment possible. Their job is literally to sit on the Minister's ass, for eight fucking hours a day, in the goddamned Ministry of fucking Magic! Speaking of which, tell me, how in Merlin's name, a fucking wanted murderer walked into the Ministry, through the fucKING FRONT DOOR, KILLED SIX GODDAMNED PEOPLE, AND JUST FUCKING LEFT!?"

She began shouting halfway through the question, James almost feels bad for the poor kid (assuming it's a trainee), almost.

She's standing over the partially covered body of Cornelius Fudge when he enters. To her left is Scrimgeour, as emotionally vacant as ever. Trembling before her is indeed, an Auror trainee, Robeson if he remembers correctly. Deciding to be nice, he addresses them, hopefully sparing the newbie any more of Amelia's rage.

"Amelia, Rufus." He nods to them in turn.

Rufus nods back, and Amelia sighs, looking at him tiredly. "It's a goddamn shitshow James. Six fucking people, including Fudge himself, dead, and we have no fucking clue who the guy is. Why are you still here Robeson? Fuck off."

She half shouts the last part to the terrified Robeson (he indeed was correct), the girl looks to be literally shaking in her boots. Taking the suggestion, she scampers away, towards her trainer (who just so happens to be Sirius' cousin Tonks, fully healed from her encounter with Filsdemort, and now a full-fledged auror).

Amelia focuses her attention back on James, "What do we have. I told Moody to figure it out, I wanted to see for myself."

James sighs (damn, he's got to stop doing that), "Next to nothing. He came in through the booth, so we have a recording of him, in which he claims to be Elvis Presley. We have parts of him killing the Minister and Umbridge."

James shakes his head, "It's little help, the wards entered automatic maintenance while talking to the Minister, by which point Fudge had been shot four times, and it doesn't pick back up until he's pulling his knives out of Umbridge's back. He proceeds to rip a killing curse into the elevator as the First Responding Aurors arrive, before apparating through the wards."

Amelia visibly deflates at this, before perking up at his next statement.

"On the bright side, we have confirmation of him being Voldemort's son."

Amelia jumps on this. "We do?"

James nods, "Indeed, he admitted so to the Minister, just before the monitoring ward cuts out."

The DMLE head begins pacing, muttering to herself all the while. James and Rufus leave her, used to this. The woman is well known for going on long trips within her own mind.

This trip however, is cut short as Moody and Kingsley walk up to the group, the former grumbling, his hands closed into tight fists.

Amelia raises an eyebrow, but is completely ignored by the peg-legged man.

James reaches his hand out with a smirk, positive that he had just won the bet. Moody confirms as much.

"Fuck you Potter. I don't know how the fuck you did, but you cheated somehow. Never fucking making a bet with you again."

His smirk widens, "No cheating Mad-Eye, just knowledge of how the Wizengamot works."

"Crock a' shit that is," Moody snorts.

Amelia, growing impatient, speaks up, "What exactly, did you bet?"

James chuckles, "Who the Interim minister is, ahead of a full vote. By the galleons in my hand, I'd say the congratulations goes to you, Amelia."

Moody nods, Rufus looks pleased, and Amelia stands shocked into silence.

Amelia opens and closes her mouth several times, unable to speak.

James falls into full blown laughter. This would be fun.

-HARRY-

It's been eleven months, three days, and 21 minutes since his first raid. Nearly a whole year, between this raid and last. Since that day, Harry has been nothing more than an assassin, while the big events have been left to the older, more experienced Death Eaters. Deep down, Harry knows that his father has his best interest at heart, but he still feels snubbed. His father would go on and on about Harry's destiny, and yet he never lets him try his skill on the field, restricting him to killing people in their damned sleep.

Twenty people had fallen by his hand since his trip to the Ministry, notably, the entire Diggory family, three aurors, an editor for the Daily Prophet, and the owner of Flourish and Blotts (apparently the old man had been a notable member of the original Order of the Phoenix, and kept close contact to Dumbledore). Every day, he was one step closer to his destiny. He would not let little things get in the way, not when he was so close. And so, he would fight through his father's protectiveness, he would continue to prove himself.

Diagon Alley remained largely unchanged since the last time Harry had conducted an attack on it, magical folk not being too fond of change. In fact, the only change to the Alley had been the Leaky Cauldron.

The death of the owner had presented an opportunity to present a better side of the Wizarding World. Where a dingy pub had once stood as the entrance to the center of British Magical commerce, now stood a handsome inn, owned by the Malfoy family, and already quite popular with visitors to the country. With the knowledge that wizards and witches were not fans of change, the Malfoy family had opened a bar within the first floor of the inn, colloquially known as 'Tom's Bar'. Though Harry knew that Lucius detested comparisons of his bar to the dirty and dark pub that had once occupied the space. Truly, the only reason that Lucius never named the bar was that people enjoyed the comparison, feeling it connected the new to the old, and enjoyed the memory of Tom, who had helped many a young witch and wizard into the Alley for the first time.

The Alley was filled today, the previous attack having done nothing to cow people into avoiding it. Though, the constant presence of Aurors in the magical commerce center may have had some effect. His father had supplied him with three squads, one each to be led by him, Regulus, and Barty. Sixty Death Eaters, it would be more than enough to handle the minimalist contingent of Aurors provided by the DMLE (who foolishly didn't believe that the Alley would be attacked again). Sixty Death Eaters. It was perhaps the largest first assault team his father had ever sent. Previously, he had sent no more than forty. The trust his father placed in him today helped to remove some of the sting from the length of time it had taken for said trust to be shown.

He would not disappoint.

"Barty, give the order."

The older man turned to him, and nodded. Swiftly, he pulled up his left sleeve, and pressed his wand to Dark Mark adorning his arm, hissing quietly. To his left, Regulus flinched, Harry ignored the burning pain. With a sharp twist, he apparated onto the narrow street below, appearing at the same time as the first spell was cast. The screaming began immediately. All around him, people began frantically searching for an escape.

With a slash of his wand, a dark cutter ripped through the back of a young Auror, who stood frozen in fear at the sudden violence. The man fell forward, blood seeping from both the wound and his mouth, becoming his thirtieth kill. Sensing the spell, he spun out of the way of a stray piercing hex, and launched a bludgeoner back in that direction.

The Alley is a scene of chaos, hundreds of people running around terrified, a few Aurors trying to keep control and fight Death Eaters at the same time, and the Death Eaters themselves sending spells every which way indiscriminately.

His thirty-first kill is a tall man in a business suit, perhaps a muggleborn, who threw a punch at Harry, he ducks under the fist, drawing his dirk, and shoving it into the man's stomach. A kick pushes the man off the blade, and he slashes his throat open, immediately launching it into the back of a fat witches head, sending her face first into the ground. Thirty-two people.

Thirty-four takes a fist to the throat, before Harry throws him into thirty-five, and both tumble to the ground, putting three bullets into thirty-fours back ensures the deaths of both. Thirty-six through forty each receive a bullet to the face and chest, emptying his first magazine. The sky before him is lit up with a hastily cast _tempus_ as he reloaded his firearm. It's been no more than five minute since the first spell was cast, by now Auror teams are responding, and when two of them appear directly in front of him, Harry gives the first a bullet to the back, and slits his partners throat as he turns.

He twists, feeling the discomfort provided with apparation, before arriving directly behind Reggie and Barty. The three of them fall into sync, showing a skill in team dueling achieved through hundreds of hours of practice and pain.

It is moments later that he realizes the lack of support they are receiving, and he sees _him_. James Potter, his birth father. The Dark Lord had told him that the Lord Potter was an exceptional dueler, but now he was witnessing it. And by Merlin was it a majestic thing to watch, he tore through the Death Eaters with pinpoint accuracy and a large spell repertoire, refined from years of Auror work and a childhood spent with a World Champion Dueler who had himself been Head Auror and Head of the DMLE.

Captain Potter could dodge spells without breaking a sweat, nail a one pence coin from twenty metres, and had the second highest score on the Transfiguration NEWT in the history of the test (behind only Dumble-bore himself). He relied heavily on the forced direct confrontation of the Dueling Circuit; it just so happened that without five thousand people wandering around, Diagon Alley was quite open, putting him in his own golden situation. He was graceful, powerful, and deadly, Harry had no doubt that he would never beat him in a duel, not yet.

Harry was all the same, but in a different way. He had very little formal dueling training, for he was an assassin, he had no true need to be able to fight someone one on one in the open. The entire point of his job was to kill without people noticing, to strike from the shadows, appear from nowhere, and be gone again in an instant. He was quick, efficient, and clever. If he got the eldest Potter in a house, or somewhere else cramped with lots of rooms and hallways, he could take down the man fairly easily. Especially so, as he was not trained to fight against, and would not expect, a dagger or firearm.

But he did not have James Potter in an enclosed space, he had him in a large alley. And soon enough, Harry, Barty, and Reggie were all that remained (luckily for him, most of the Death Eaters were no names from the continent, Jugson being the only noble here), surrounded on all sides. Potter stood at the center of the circle, his men at his sides, near two dozen and a half again.

The spells begin immediately.

The auror nearest to James on his right takes an AK to the face, shock permanently etched on her young face. Her comrades respond viciously, killings curses and bone breakers, cutting curses light up the alley. The first fight is short and brutal. In mere minutes, Barty has a noticeable limp (courtesy of a bone breaker that caught his foot), Reggie is bleeding from his three separate gashes (including one he had to burn shut to avoid dying), and Harry's outer robe is gone, showcasing a bad burn on his left shoulder.

Harry's father is one of a dozen aurors left. They stand in a line, as do the three remainings Death Eaters. The erratic breathing of the many duelists is the only sound, until Reggie speaks.

"James," his voice is hoarse. Harry knows that Reggie truly thought of James as a brother, and the loss of that had hurt the man, as little as he showed it.

Potter's response is cold, "Black."

Harry can see a single tear leak out of Regulus' eye (though it is nigh impossible to see). "So it's come to that? Last names? Wands? Killing Curses? We've been friends for years James! Twenty of them! By Merlin, I'm Cassiopeia's godfather!"

The mention of Harry's sister sets James off, "A mistake of character on my part! Why, Reggie? Why? Why would you join him? What did he offer you, that you would turn your back on me, and Sirius, Good Gods, on Reggie Jr. and Erik?"

James has tears of his own in his eyes, as he gestures wildly. Around him, his fellow aurors stand stock still, ready to resume casting at a moments notice, much the same as Barty and Harry.

"I do this for them James, for them! Dumbledore and his ilk will destroy the Wizarding World. Thousands of years of magical history and experimentation, all for the sake of 'tolerance'. I will not see my family, my people, hunted into extinction by a race that destroys what it does not, and cannot understand!"

"It would seem we have a difference of political beliefs."

Reggie sighs, "So it would seem."  
James takes a deep breath.

"Just answer me one question. Just one," His hazel eyes are steely when he looks up, directly into Reggie's eyes, "Did you know? Did you know they were gonna take Harry?"

"It hurts me that you would think I would've been involved. I loved that boy as much as you did." James nods tersely. He believes Reggie, swallowing what is an obvious lie. He steps in, the conversation has gone in long enough.

"Regulus," His voice is cold, but much deeper than either his father's or the Dark Lords.

Reggie turns to him, and steps aside when Harry motions for him to do so. Harry turns back to his father.

"Captain Potter."

"Filsdemort, I presume?" His father asks with a raised eyebrow, if only he knew.

He nods, "You'd be correct, Captain Potter. You are of good stock Captain, noble blood, strong magic, broad intelligence. There is no need for you to die. Join us. You will have comfort after the war, you and your family."

His father clearly doesn't believe him, and voices his thoughts. "Bullshit. I'm married to a witch you'd call mudblood, a witch who birthed all three of my children."

The mention of his siblings nearly gets to him, but he has little time for sentimentality. "Your wife's, unfortunate, heritage aside, she is magically powerful, and as I am told, wickedly intelligent, and a world renown Potions Mistress. There is no reason for her to die either.

I say again, join us. We only wish to protect our fellow magical folk."

The recognition of Lily's skill swelled his father with pride, but this is replaced quickly with his returning doubt.

"You'd see a muggle genocide," His tone is accusatory.

"Our only plans are to ensure magic doesn't die out. If the muggles need to, to ensure that doesn't happen, so be it. They would be no great loss."

James seems confused, doubt, pride for his wife, love, regret, betrayal, he is a mess of emotions. Harry can tell he very nearly has the man in his palms, he needs only one push.

"Think of your children, Captain Potter. Join us, help us build a better world for them."

Too much.

The Auror Captain lashes out, before anyone can react, an overpowered blasting curse rips through the three Death Eaters, launching them in three directions.

The last thing Harry sees before he blacks out, is James Potter's surprised face as he pulls off his mask.

The words of the tall auror to his left are hazy, and perhaps Harry's mind makes them up entirely, "Jesus James, he looks exactly like you and Jimmy. You don't have a cousin do you?"

 **AN:** There it is, only two months late. I hope you enjoyed. Chapter IV is currently being written, though it will likely be shorter (around 2.5-4 thousand words), as it was originally intended to be part of this, but due to the length of time since my last update, I decided to cut it off after the Diagon Alley raid.


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